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Simpson, tallow-colored with fear, clung like a cat to his horse, and dug the rowels in the beast’s flanks till they were bloody and dripping. He had seen Jim Rodney’s face above the white cloth as it fluttered in the face of the herd that came pounding behind him with the rumble of nearing thunder.

"Jim Rodney was in earnest, an’ he had reason to be. That man Simpson was paid by a cattle outfitnow, mind, I ain’t sayin’ whichto get Jim Rodney’s sheep off the range. They had threatened him and cut the throats of two hundred of his herd as a warning, but Jim went right on grazin’ ’em, same as he had always been in the habit of doing.

"As far as the regularity is concerned, that would be a pretty hard thing to answer, but he’s had an interest in the ’XXX’ sincesince—" "He drove Rodney’s sheep over the cliff?" "Ain’t you a little hard on the beginning of his cattle career?

After supper, Chugg, with fresh horses to the stage, left Rodney’s, apparently for some port in that seemingly pathless sea of foot-hills. That there should be trails and defined routes over this vast, unvaried stretch of space seemed more wonderful to Mary than the charted high-roads of the Atlantic.

But the rôle of lonely cow-puncher loyally wedded to the thought of his first love was not without charm to Peter. How long his constancy would have survived the test of propinquity to a woman of Judith Rodney’s compelling personality, other things being equal, it would be difficult to hazard a guess. The coming of Judith from the convent increased the perspective into which Kitty was retreating.

"I bring you greeting from my brother," she said. "He has gone on a long journey." Henderson started. Through the still room ran the murmur, "Rodney’s outwitted them; he’s played a joke on the rope!" And Judith, his dare-devil sister, had come with his greetings to Henderson, leader of the faction against him! The tide had turned.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Yellett, reflectively, "Leander’s mouth do run about eight and a half octaves. Sometimes I don’t blame his wife for bangin’ down the lid." They talked of Jim Rodney’s troubles, and the growing hatred between sheep and cattle men, because of range rights. "Now that pore Jim had a heap of good citizen in him, before that pestiferous cattle outfit druv’ his sheep over the cliff.

Her son Jim grew up with their own children. When he was four years of age his mother, Singing Stream, died, and Sally persuaded her husband to take young Jim into their own home, partly as a sop to neighborly criticism, partly as a salve to her own conscience. Sally had children of her own, and looked at things differently now from the time when she fought the squaw for Rodney’s favor.

The pale man’s grievance had had to do with sheep and cattle. His name had been Rodney, too. She understood now. He was Judith Rodney’s brother, and he was in danger of being hanged. Mary Carmichael felt first the admiration of a girl, then the pity of a woman, for the brave young creature who so stoutly carried so unspeakable a burden. But she could not speak of her new knowledge to Leander.

And when they had come within a mile of Warren Rodney’s cabin on Elder Creek, Singing Stream halted and prepared for the great event of reinstatement. First she made a splendid toilet of purple calico torn into strips and tied about the waist to simulate the skirts of the devil woman.